


The Devil in Camp

by Lualie



Series: A new AU-rizon, Get it? Horizon? AU?... [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dark Fae!Jon, Detective!Edward, M/M, Macabre, Murder Mystery, Slow Burn, i will update these as i go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-04 05:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12764451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lualie/pseuds/Lualie
Summary: Detective Nygma had no say whether he wanted any part of this. What was supposed to be a case of missing people in a small town quickly turned into a most bizarre affair. There is no way to tell whether the threat comes from the forest cradling them in  its overwhelming embrace... or if true evil lies where everyone can see.Whoever Edward decides to believe, the people who sought his help or the shadow haunting his dreams... There is one thing the detective knows for sure.There's something very, very wrong with this town.





	1. Up the hill

**Author's Note:**

> There's.... a lot of different inspirations that fueled this fiction, one being my favorite (out of two) type of Fae Jon would be. I tried to steer the story into something that fit both my macabre aesthetics and my sappy barky hands. 
> 
> This is a new style I'm trying out so, here goes.

Small towns. Edward never bothered with small towns.

Glory Hills was, contrary to what its name might suggest, a rather humble town. It might had seen success a long, long time ago when it was first founded toward the late 19th century, but that qualification hardly applied on this dying town, slowly bleeding out of its younger population who preferred seeking opportunities in distant cities. Smart kids.

It was rather isolated from the outside, for a start. The town had settled its economy on various resources over the years. A bit of lumbering. A bit of mining. A bit of hunting. Farming was not the most efficient with the type of soil they were living on but, somehow the land had never failed them, or so he’s been told. They tended to rely on themselves foremost and only required, or sought, external assistance for the occasional lack of said necessities. The closest neighboring town being 20 minutes away on the highway is probably one of the reasons they set to be self-reliant on the first place. That, and a stiff stubbornness in regards of modernization. 

They did have Wifi though. So that was a comfort. It was spectacularly spotty, however.

Though, it could be said the scenery was quite compelling at various time of day, if you had a thing for that sort of rustic aesthetics. The slight groove it was built into was cradled by hills and the looming forest furnishing them. There was a creek originating from the dark folds of said woodland. Since his arrival, he had been told that if everyone stopped and paid attention to it, they could hear the sound of rushing water, humming like a voice. compelling, growing, engulfing.... 

.... Moving on. to Edward’s annoyance, the town’s inhabitants were not particularly warm to outsiders. Or perhaps it was the late September’s chill affecting their manners and.... hospitality.

There was, however, one thing Edward did knew about small towns. They kept their history very close to their chests. 

All he had to do, was ask the right questions.

“And here we have a painting of Mayor Mansfield, who was in office for nearly 20 years before passing his seat to his son-in-Law, Mayor Redfields Senior, who you might recognize as our current Mayor’s grandfather.”

“Ah yes. Tell me, Mrs. Redfields. Did you-”

“-And finally, here we have a portrait of the Redfields’ Manor, up on the eastern hill. You see, Glory, as we call it, had a change of heart in the 20s, and we were extremely lucky to have a type of soil that favored certain kind of flowers. The Mansfields, who originally built the manor in 1923, made the economy boom through commercialization of our local variety. That business lasted... oh, ten years? Give or take. Then the flowers actually spread outside of the area and, it’s been regarded as little more than weed by the locals. Still, every spring, you can see them everywhere, particularly on your way up the hill to the manor! It is luxurious and rich and covering the lands like the blood of our nation!”

Edward nodded amiably at the stout woman, tightening his fists behind his back as he awaited for his client to finish “an important call”. Mrs. Redfields must had been in her late 50s, with a obvious habit of smoking for the looks of her teeth and a subtle yellowing of her fingers... Unless the nearby spittoons were actually indicative of a tobacco chewer. Either way.

Her eyes were somewhat sunken deep in her skull. They were alert and alive with the newfound opportunity of sharing the history of their town to any politely inquisitive visitors, and had commandeered the conversation ever since Edward had uttered his first unfortunate question. 

At any another time, perhaps Edward would had enjoyed this kind of tour. But he had the growing impression that his client had either forgotten he was expecting to see him or, plausibly, that the lady herself had not actually informed her husband of his arrival as soon as she saw the possibility to ramble the excess of information held into her thinning cranium and never had the chance to spill at any of the jaded locals.

Which, to an extent, Edward sympathized with. However, he was not above hypocrisy. 

Before he could make his 5th attempt at placing a word in the conversation, the tall doors leading to the Mayoral office opened on a balding man with a permanent wrinkle up on his forehead. His brows were knitted as he ran his eyes across the hall. “Margaret, have you seen- OH! Oh, Detective Nygma, welcome! I was expecting you earlier, I was worried you might have gotten lost on your way here...”

Edward tried not to shot his eyes through the lady next to him who, he could see from the corner of his eyes, was puffing her chest, standing as tall as her height permitted. Shamelessly daring anyone to question her reasoning. 

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Mr. Redfield.” Edward crossed the distance swiftly, shaking the man’s hand. His palms were sweaty and left a sticky sensation over his own.

Mayor Redfields briefly grinned apologetically, though it was not very convincing a grin. Everyone was quite aware of that, and he did not try further. “Let us begin, then. Please, come in. Have a seat.”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The Mayor’s Office was, in a similar taste as the rest of the house, old-fashioned with a hint of decay around its edges. Edward made sure not to point them out and focused on the content of the office itself, which featured books and papers at various places obviously not made for books and papers. It was messy, is what he was trying NOT to say.

Many pictures of those infamous red flowers as well, whom the redhead could recognize as Morning glories.

The detective sat in a pink-cushioned chair with his legs crossed, his hands patiently folded until he heard the ridiculous favor he had been asked to perform for this man.

“I must say, Mr. Redfields, your friends were... quite convincing when I was told I was required to assist you in this.... case.”

“Ah... yes. It’s been quite a thorn in my side for the 2 past years-.”

“Which I’ve come to understand,” Edward cut him, grinning unpleasantly. “has to do with disappearing citizens? Would you mind elaborating on that, or should I go the old-fashioned way and interview each and every single one of your constituents? However, I trust you could offer some valuable insights?”

He should had been mindful of the condescension in his tone, but his patience had ran thin until this conversation. He had lost valuable time, and he would gladly appreciate a quick briefing on what he needed to know to begin his investigation and get done with this hellhole.

He saw the other man straightening himself, leaning his elbows over the desk. “Of course... Well, there have been a few... disappearances, in the past few years. Some we just assumed people who left and never returned, having shown signs of those kind of behaviors in the past. However..... We recently found how... one of our most skilled hunter have met a most... dreadful end. It-... It has been a week now so, of course our police department have investigated the crime scene and removed the corpse from it’s.... confinement.”

“Confinement?” The detective emphasized, observing every detail of the man in front of him. From his shifty eyes to the shaking of his hands.

Redfields fetched a cloth he used to wipe the pearls of sweat on his forehead, rising to retrieve a folder from one of his drawers.

“We took pictures of everything, of course. I’ve... not looked at them much myself. It is a rather upsetting sight for me. Acker was a good friend of mine...” he trailed off, looking anywhere except at Edward’s perceptive glare.

Edward leaned to take the folder, opening it to reveal.... a rather peculiar death.

Well. 

“Intriguing.” Edward carded through each pictures. Taking a moment to notice the details of every frame. “Mr. Redfields?”

The older man turned to him in mild astonishment, as if he had only noticed him now. “Yes?”

“Has this ever happened before?”

Edward kept a close eye on the man, and what he saw only made him more.. curious.

“No! No... This is, not anything I have ever seen. You.. You can clearly see the branches had gone-..... oh god”

“It’s quite alright, sir. Please sit back down.”

And the man did just so, looking particularly upset. He resumed wiping at his bald head while Edward looked at the pictures a second time over.

Admittedly, if this murder had been staged, which it must had been... someone had put incredible efforts to make it look like a tree had somehow engulfed the man into its trunk, branches and leaves sprouting out of his permanently escaping corpse. His arms reaching out for an escape he had obviously no power to reach...

What was most striking was the utter look of terror in the man’s expression. If all of this was true, the hunter had seen some unspeakable horror.... Well. Theoretically, dying in that fashion would be quite horrifying, you didn’t need to be a genius the likes of him to know that much.

Which was nonsense, really. But, a possibility.

“Any idea how he had got himself stuck in there? Unless that is a hobby around these parts...”

“Oh, no, no... We, truly do not know.” 

Something in his voice made Edward shot his eyes back on him, this time, the mayor found himself pinned from a severe glare. 

This was the second time the man had lied to him, and he was itching to find answers.

“Truly?” the detective repeated, irking a brow at him. 

“Well..... well there is...”

“I need all the information I can work with, Mr. Redfields. So I suggest you tell me what’s troubling you so much.” He kept his sight on him for a spell, then tilted his head. “Unless you want me to find out for myself?”

Redfields didn’t answered right away, but managed to mutter an explanation.

“It all started when my great-grandfather became mayor of this town...”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Something new had come into Glory Hills.

From the depth, It hummed to his ears like a rumor through the leaves. It traveled like shimmer through the thickest of branches. 

It pulled at his core, at the bones at his feet, at the roots feeding on them.

From the Unseen to the cursed... and in their silence, bound into completion. 

It led him back to their civilization, breathing in the foul stench. 

And his whole kingdom inhaled as one.

Something new had come into Glory Hills. 

The air tasted of rust. Stained those who stayed too long on these grounds. It moved around them, it moved from them. Seeping into their clothes and drowning their thoughts with the promises of mortality and decay.

The time had come again.

But this year would be... most memorable.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“So what you are telling me... is how this town has been haunted by a creature of the woods for the last century?” the redhead was incredulous. He was also irritated. He was going through a lot at the moment.

Folk tales..... of all things.

“Well... It never came to this before. They stayed near the perimeter of the forests... Acker was a good man, he would had never gone to... to that place...” Redfields rubbed both of his meaty hands over his tired eyes. He looked near exhausted. “They never bothered us like this before.”

Edward made a note to... entertain the idea. Although the thought alone was royally insulting his intellect. He let the silence grow between them until the other man managed to look at him again. 

“That place you’re referring to being the crime scene?”

“Yes...”

“I suppose you were not expecting me to shy away from a crime scene on the account of it being haunted?”

“It isn’t haunted, Mr.-”

“-Detective.”

“.... Detective Nygma, but no... Despite my beliefs, I know we must find answers first...”

Edward nodded at his conclusion. The mayor filled him in on additional details, showing him a map of the events which Edward borrowed shamelessly as he stood to take his leaves. The sun was setting and he had half a mind to go back to his...... “residence” before going to the next logical step of his investigation.

Hitting the local bars.

“The answer is evident to me, Mayor Redfields,” Edward approached almost amiably, putting on his emerald green coat and favored bowler hat on, a cane he had begrudgingly left behind when Lady Redfields had pried it out of his hands with aggressive hospitality. “do you believe the disappearances are connected to this affair?”

“Oh no well, not all of them I’m sure... We do lose a few kids every year to the appeal of the city.” He tried to grin, like this was some kind inside joke which Edward did not have a witty banter to reply with. 

“I will see you tomorrow at noon. Until then, Mayor Redfields.”

The man offered once more that _esquisse_ of a smile as Edward turned to open the door, leaving behind this troubled man who, even if he hated to admit it, had quite a mystery on his hands.

Perhaps, aside for all the nonsense of it, Edward has found a puzzle worth his time in this dreadful place.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

As the eccentric "detective” left the driveway of their home, Geordan Redfields stood where he was last seen for as long as he could hear the sound of wheels on the crumbling pavement. As he turned to walk back into his office, he found his wife Margaret standing there with a basket of fresh baked goods, a look of disgruntlement as she held it with one hand, the other on her bony hip.

“You forgot the basket, Dan.” She sighed, almost dropping it carelessly on a table-stand. “How is he going to stay plump if you let him run around so much?”

“Patience, my flower.” Geordan’s attitude at completely changed as soon as the man left. He exhaled loudly and ambled back to plant a kiss between her brows, her eyes throwing lightnings at him, he had no doubts. 

“We still have a month ahead of us, do we not?”


	2. The Six-Mile Inn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward begins his investigation at the most likely place to get information, aka the local bar. However, it takes an unexpected turns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah man this was supposed to me a longer chapter but I felt like this was a good place to stop, until the next bit I was originally planning for at least.

Was the bar crowded? Oh no, far from it. Edward blamed the vague feeling of claustrophobia on whoever designed this building to feel like he was starring in a German expressionist movie. 

It was smaller than most city standards Edward was used to sneak into, back home in Gotham. Maintenance-wise, the front store could definitively used a new paint job, inside and out. He’ll admit, the sign over the door “The Six-Mile Inn” had an interesting graphic design, lighting the gothic letters with a single lamp, crackling softly under the rumor of voices coming from within. 

A lumpy, straw-stuffed scarecrow was slumped under the front window on a bale of hay, one limp arm slung over an oversized pumpkin sitting next to him.

Its face was smiling enthusiastically, drawn like a child’s idea of how wide a mouth should be. 

The fact that there was around 10 people inside, 12 counting the owner and the barmaid serving drinks, shouldn’t had made him feel like the establishment was packed, but it was a tad more difficult to ignore when the building was practically a shoe box.

A collection of odd looks and grimaces brushed him as he swiftly made his way over a vacant stool. A blonde woman turned to him, looked him over in a splint second, seemed to come to a conclusion in his regards. 

Her eyes had a piercing edge even as she came smiling at him. It didn’t hid an ounce of wariness like the other patrons had, but its eloquence was enough to make him almost frown at the silent threat.

Naturally, the detective replied in gusto with a smile, matching the sharpness of hers with an edge of his own.

There laid his first puzzle to solve.

“You’re the new guy M’sir Redfields called to sniff at Acker’s body, aren’t you?” she practically purred. The longer she bored her eyes into him, the more her lips revealed the impeccable teeth showing underneath. 

There had been a few conversations as he came in, and Edward was acutely aware her voice had silenced them at once, all eyes turning on him in a single motion.

Well. So much for discretion.

Fortunately, discretion wasn’t what he was aiming for tonight.

Two could play this game.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

After leaving the Redfields’ mansion and returning to his.... “cottage” the Mayor had offered him, normally kept vacant for tourists visiting the region, Edward took the time to memorize the surroundings of his temporary domicile while there was still any daylight left. 

It was... well, he supposed it was an appropriately rustic setting for anyone seeking that kind of retreat in nature. It had all the necessities and more. He’d even dare say it felt better kept than some of the houses he had drove by on his way home. 

It had a particularly lovely view from the front window, clearly meant for visitors to admire the scenery. He could almost picture them, sitting on the porch with hot beverages warming their hands, huddling close under blankets while the chill of the morning/night swirled around them, watching the sunrise in companionable silence...

Idyllic, really. 

Edward briefly debated whether he should make an effort to enjoy what was essentially a vacation he was forcibly being subjected to, or just get the case done and over with as quickly as possible. 

Right, the case. It was getting dark anyway, a quick look at the mirror and he was trotting down the stairs with a spring in his steps, back to his car.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// 

All around him, curious eyes had followed the green-clad man home, and did likewise as he made his way back toward town.

It curled and shifted, making notes as it hummed softly, the night falling over the domain like a veil over the world.

Expectantly. 

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// 

“I believe you might be indeed referring to me, mademoiselle. Although, I’d rather spend as little time as possible near the offending sight and favor company much sweeter on the eye.” He batted his eyelashes at her. Edward turned to the barmaid who was inspecting labels on a bottle with the upmost attention. “Is that a bottle of gin? I was just about to request if you had that brand in particular.” 

He wasn’t, but his voice seemed to force her back into reality, finally acknowledging him with guarded eyes. 

“I could’ve got you that yknow,” the blonde beckoned, clicking her nails in front of him to regain his attention. It would had been a grumbling tone if it wasn’t laced with steely velvet. 

The brunette woman had scratches on her hands, perhaps from breaking a glass. Albeit it didn’t explain why they climbed up her forearms as well.

“Oh I should had asked! But, where are my manners.” Edward chuckled, offering a gloved hand to the blonde. “Detective Nygma, Private investigator.” 

She took it graciously, holding it almost as if expecting him to kiss her knuckles. “Lavinia Miles. Owner of the place.”

“Daughter of kings and Queen of her people, how fitting. I’m sure you must be loved around here.”

She might had caught the reference, but brushed it off all-together, grinning conspiratorially. “Why yes, people around these parts wouldn’t be welcomed to sit here if they had issues with my person, now would they?”

“Of course!” Edward added some playful indignity to his tone. “I’m sure everyone who walks through your threshold has you in high regards, especially in such a small town. Your establishment must see the best and the worst of these people.”

“At that it sure does, Detective.”

The tension of their exchange was somewhat dispersed by a small glass of gin being placed between them. Edward turned to look at the barmaid, her gaze unreadable. She nodded at the drink without a word.

“Ah yes, thank you, miss--?”

“Acker.”

“Oh.” Edward didn’t deflate per say, but momentarily abandoned his pseudo-battle of wit to shape sincerity into his tone. “I’m really sorry to meet you under such circumstances, miss Acker.”

She had picked a rag, drying up an empty glass, pointedly not looking at him. “It’s a small town, sir,” she said, to no one in particular. “Someone goes off and everyone loses it. But we can’t dwell, we all got to move on, don’t we?”

She leveled her brown eyes on his again. A strangling anger burning at their core. Edward had a feeling there was a lot more she wanted to say. 

“Yknow what, honey?” Lavinia interjected, breaking off the spell of their silence. “You take the night off. These chumps over there aren’t going to order anything anyway, least one of their dates gives me a call.”

Six men were sitting by the window, one of them sober enough to make an attempt at reaching inside his coat, waving what might had been an old flip-phone. “I can get a text from Rosalie if you can get me another pint?” he managed to shout, two of his friends snickering into their drinks. 

“Nice try, Ross. Rose’s your mom’s middle-name and everyone knows it.”

“No it’s not!”

While the blonde continued to banter with the drunken patrons, Edward managed to catch the brunette’s attention with a quick look. 

It looked like she had tried to escape the scene discreetly. 

“I didn’t catch your name, miss Acker.” Edward said quietly.

She gave him a long stare, almost biting her lips, as if debating whether she should speak to him at all.

“Mary. Henry Acker was my father,” she stated cautiously.

Edward gave her a gracious smile, nodding solemnly. “If you must go, will you let me visit you tomorrow and ask you some questions related to your father?”

“I... Don’t think so.” Her eyes were shifting toward the blonde’s back, she took a slow step toward the back door.

Edward nodded discreetly. “Understandable. Though if you were to change your mind, feel free to give me a call.” He picked a business card from his breast pocket, sliding it to her. “You might had been the last person who saw him alive after all.”

At those words, an empty laugh came from her, shaking her shoulders slightly. It echoed loud enough to draw the owner’s attention back on them. Lavinia’s pale glare full of acid. 

Mary turned on her heels, taking her leave like someone who knew too much.

Lavinia tilted her head royally at him, giving the detective a hard stare.

“Well. Just so we’re clear, this drink isn’t on the house, M’sir. You pay up like any other costumer does around here.”

Edward didn’t object, riffling through a different pocket with an indulgent smile. “Now, Ms. Miles. About that ‘the best and the worst’ we mentioned earlier...”

She shook her head, grimacing. “Listen here,” she warned, plucking the bill from Edward’s hand. “You wanna know more about the folks in this town, you’ll have to ask them yourself. And for that, you either come here all the time and buy them drinks until they can’t shut up... Or....” 

She smirked sharply again, slowly leaning toward him with a wicked smile. Her voice low and breathy. “Or,” she purred. “You do me a favor and I’ll chatter your ear off myself, how about it?” she blinked slowly, her eyelashes akin to perfect daggers, ready to give him a few stitches at the bat of an eye. 

Ah, but favors. Edward knew that was a tricky territory, more so his ears were still ringing from Mrs. Redfields’ monologue. 

He carefully rose a brow at her, challenging. “And what would this favor entails, Ms. Miles? I sure hope you do not intent on distracting me from my real purpose here?” he quipped, meeting her halfway. “Anything in particular you’re looking for?”

Her grin seems to grow wider. Something about it reminding Edward of the smile adorned on the scarecrow outside.

Whichever offer she was about to make was cut short by at blood-curling scream, echoing through the valley like the wind in a storm. This, however, sounded nothing like the wind.

“Did.... Did you guys hear that?” someone, Ross?, the man from earlier shakily asked, struggling to swallow a lump in his throat. Not a soul in the watering hole made a sound as they awaited another shrill to validate their growing terror.

And another ear-splitting call of distress shook them to their very core, making them jump on their feet and rush to the door. Edward already way ahead of them.

It was some distance away, and the surrounding darkness hindered his vision considerably, but the private investigator could see the struggling shape of Mary Acker being caught and carried over-....

A grotesque man dressed as the same strawman from the storefront. The man turned to look at them for a second only, rendering his hostage unconscious as to ease his escape. 

How he could see anything under the sack on his head, Edward had no idea. All the detective could see before they took off after him was the large, crudely-shaped smile on it, turning back toward the woods with his victim over his shoulder. 

And the night swallowed them whole.

Where a looming figure watched.

Amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edward "What kind of fool runs into the woods with a sack over their head?" Nygma
> 
> The big action bit is supposed to happen in the next chapter, I though I might cut here just so I can choose the proper warnings for the next chapter.
> 
> Nothing too graphic. It's really more for the thrill of it all. It's been a really long time since I tried the fantastic genre.
> 
> Anywho... I just want to thank my friends for supporting me always. I owe you everything I write.
> 
> Thank you guys for reading. I adore you <3<3<3

**Author's Note:**

> What could possibly go wrong?
> 
> Hey guys, thank you for reading this. I owe a great lot to my friends and those who encourage me no matter the moods. I'll see you guys on the next cliff hanger.
> 
> I love you all, please stay warm <3<3<3


End file.
